


In On The Action

by rebelwriter6561



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rooftop Sex, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: Ray is out on a miserable job. Ryan shows up to get in on the action.





	In On The Action

**Author's Note:**

> I'm done with Part 1 of my massive big long Raywood fic so I wrote porn!

Fucking miserable. Ray shivered, trying to shake loose the wet fabric that covered him and clung to his skin. It didn't help ‒ he was totally soaked, and it didn't help that it was freezing. Los Santos may be near the desert, but it got fucking _cold_ too. He wanted to be inside, where it was nice and warm, playing video games under at least two blankets.

But no, his dumb ass was stuck on some roof, waiting for the dumbass stupid mark to get home. And he was achy too, sitting up at an uncomfortable angle to get his rifle over the edge and lined up. The concrete wasn't exactly soft, and the blanket he'd spread underneath wasn't doing it's job at all. And it was getting dark.

 _Think of the paycheck_ , Ray dimly thought. It almost wasn't worth the misery, but he'd taken the contract because the prick who’d offered it seemed so sure he couldn't do it. And Ray was nothing if not petty. It was certainly better than anything else the city was currently offering.

Finally, a light blinked on in the apartment across from him. Ray shifted to get the gun’s butt against his shoulder, tilting his head to look through the scope. Bout fucking time. Where was that dumbass? As soon as he walked in front of the window…

“Well, well. What have we here?”

Ray's body reacted before his brain registered the words. He jerked his gun out of position and to his chest, flattening down on top of it. Even as he realized what was said and who spoke it, he was reaching for the handgun under his belt. Once it registered, he stopped his ungainly scrambling. He twisted around and locked eyes with the Vagabond.

He stood there, waaay too close for Ray's comfort. The fucking bastard had his shit-eating grin on under his face paint. He looked over Ray with his arms crossed confidently, obviously pleased at how close he'd gotten to him without him noticing. Stupid rain. 

The stupid rain was also ruining his look somewhat, making his hair lay flat and the paint run. But it also made his T-shirt cling to his chest like it had the right to be there. He looked like a fucking model. Ray was sure in comparison he looked like a drowned rat.

Ray shook his head at him, dislodging the hood that was doing nothing to keep his face dry. “What are you doing here? I'm on a job.” Bastard knew that too because Ray didn't normally hang around on roofs for no reason. He turned back to face the building across the way, pushing his gun into position again. Dumbass still needed a bullet in the head, regardless of any distracting appearances.

Now that he knew he was there, Ray could hear the Vagabond’s footsteps scuffing the wet roof as he walked closer. They didn't stop until the Vagabond was standing right over him, one foot to each side of his hips. Then he got to his knees, and crouched down so his chest was pressed to his back, almost laying on him, but not crushing him. Ray kept perfectly still, barely breathing, unable to focus on anything other than the distracting bastard right over him.

With a considering noise, the Vagabond tilted his head to look down the barrel of Ray’s gun, following the sights to his intended target. Ray knew he should be lining up his shot, since the dumbass was wandering around his apartment with the blinds open, but he couldn't move. Warmth was finally spreading through him, and it wasn't just coming from the proximity to the other’s body. It was familiarity with someone he knew so well that was making him lose his focus.

He could feel the heat from the Vagabond’s cheek so close to his, and a tiny shift brought him in contact with it, rubbing against his own prickly stubble. The Vagabond didn't move away, other than to settle himself more firmly on Ray, one arm sliding into the space between his chest and the roof. Being so close, his body was sheltering Ray from the rain, and his heat was so delicious Ray wanted nothing more that to curl up under him and soak it in. He _melted_ , so relaxed under his grip that he nearly forgot what the hell he was doing.

“So what's the take on this?” The Vagabond’s question startled him out of his daze. _Focus_ , he mentally ordered himself. This was exactly why they didn't do jobs together.

“It's not nothing,” he deflected rather than answering. That was another thing they didn't do ‒ there was never any talk between them about their hits and their scores. It stopped them from getting into an uneven competition. And it was all the same, at the end of the day.

The Vagabond’s voice was lower as he put his lips to Ray's ear. “Bet my take to protect the target is more.”

It took a second to get his meaning, but once Ray got it he groaned angrily and thunked his forehead painfully on the scope. _God dammit_. Maybe they should start talking shop, just so they'd avoid nonsense like this, and the Vagabond wouldn't take a job that was in direct opposition to his.

He had to fold. He had to. He couldn't ask the Vagabond to give up the job, or, God forbid, fail. The Vagabond had a reputation, dammit, that was about ninety percent of his persona. If word got out about him giving up a job for someone else or if he tanked, he'd get no more work. People wanted the best for a damn reason. Whereas Ray didn't really give a fuck what people thought if he didn't complete a job. It wasn't like he was keeping score.

He could ignore him and take the shot anyway. He knew he was probably one of the only people who could tell the Vagabond to fuck off and live to tell about it. But that would be an inexcusable dick move. The Vagabond’s trust in him would be gone. He would be better off turning and shooting the Vagabond and collecting on one of the many bounties on his head. And that was a such painfully ludicrous idea that he couldn't even consider it.

While Ray was begrudgingly thinking it over, the Vagabond was back to being distracting. He'd moved his head only slightly, but it was enough to give the Vagabond access to his neck, and he was placing several firm, lingering kisses across it. Ray arched his neck further, giving him more room. Each touch was lighting fire under his skin. He could almost forget how soaked and miserable he was.

“You're gonna have to make it up to me,” Ray said shakily after a particularly forceful kiss that was nearly a bite. The hand under Ray had moved under his clothes, pressing warmly to his damp and cold stomach. The Vagabond knew every trick to get on his good side, and he was playing dirty. Asshole.

“I can get you dinner.” The Vagabond’s voice was muffled as he tucked his head into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nudging aside the hood to get to his skin. He was definitely getting bitey, using a little more teeth than necessary. He knew Ray loved it.

“A couple Taco Bells aren't going to make this up,” Ray tried to say as firmly as he could. He knew where he wanted this to go, and he guessed the Vagabond wanted the same, if this was the method he was using. That was definitely a grin against his shoulder, so he was on the right track.

Ray very deliberately lifted his hips, so his ass rubbed up against the Vagabond’s groin. The other man groaned, thrusting his hips down to pin Ray again. Ray gasped, pleasure lighting him up like an explosion. “I know how you can make it up to me,” he said raggedly, trying to move his hips up again. 

“I'm not fucking you on a roof in the rain.” The Vagabond’s voice was too hard, and Ray froze, wondering if he fucked up. The arm around his waist tightened though, and he brought his lips up to Ray's ear. “But there's a perfectly good stairwell over there I can defile you in.”

A laugh choked out of Ray, with relief and at the comment. “Anything to get me out of this rain.” The words had no sooner left his mouth before he was being yanked to his feet by the arm around his middle. He almost lost his grip on his gun, but he managed to fumble it well enough to carry while the Vagabond dragged him away from his perch.

They slammed through the door into the darkened staircase. Ray had disabled all the lights and cameras when he got there, so he didn't feel bad about roughly grabbing the Vagabond by the face and dragging him down for a kiss. It quickly escalated when the Vagabond broke his grip and took charge. Keeping Ray distracted by kissing, he backed him up to the wall. Ray dazedly leaned his gun there, out of the way from the action. A squeeze on his hips urged Ray to shift his weight, and the Vagabond picked him up easily to pin him to the wall.

Ray wrapped his legs around him while the kisses grew harder and meaner. The Vagabond caught the edge of his tongue or his lip every time he pulled back, sending sparks up Ray spine every time. Stupid cheating bastard. Ray buried his hands in his hair in retaliation, pulling just the way he knew he liked. The Vagabond shifted his grip on Ray so he could use a hand, and got to work opening his pants. 

Like a fucking tease, even once Ray was unzipped and he could feel cold air along his overheated dick, the Vagabond didn't immediately get to jerking him off or anything. His hand was teasing, too light and inconsistent to get any feeling besides frustrated. “Get on with it,” Ray grumbled against his lips, trying to arch his hips enough to spur something more.

“Impatient. Got plans after this?” The jackass was grinning that stupid grin he wore when he knew he was getting on Ray's nerves.

“I'm fucking freezing. You're doin’ a real shit job at warming me up.” The resulting squeeze was the exact reaction Ray knew his words would cause. The Vagabond wasn't the only one who knew the other’s weaknesses. Ray struggled to keep his thoughts straight against the sudden intense attention the Vagabond was giving to his dick. “If you're gonna take so long, maybe I'll just go home and get in the shower. Take care of this myself.”

The Vagabond pressed him against the wall harder, forcing a wheeze out of Ray. “Over my fucking dead body,” he muttered darkly. Keeping Ray pinned, he fumbled for a brief moment before pulling out a tube of lube.

Unease prickled at Ray, and he freed a hand to grab his wrist, stopping his motions. “Did you plan this?” he asked. Stopping him from interfering with his job was one thing, but deliberate sabotage was another. Ray didn't like the idea that the Vagabond _knew_ he had the job, but let him get all the way out there anyway. That was rude.

The Vagabond sighed, dropping his asshole act and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ray's. “I didn't know it was you,” he said consolingly. “I _suspected_ , because I knew they'd go only for the best‒” Ray snorted at the blatant flattery “‒so I prepared accordingly. If it were anyone else I would have shot them in the head and gotten on with my life.” He swiftly pressed a kiss to Ray's lips. “I much prefer this though. Don't you feel the same?”

Ray hmm-ed half-heartedly. This _was_ better than freezing his ass off in the rain. “We really need to start planning this shit,” he grumbled. There really was no point in keeping their jobs a secret from each other ‒ nothing else really was. And it'd stop them from ever accidentally ending up on the wrong sides of a turf war, which had happened. It was before they'd ever slept together, but it still wasn't fun.

“We'll talk about it when I get home,” The Vagabond promised him. While they'd been talking, he'd managed to tear open the package and lubed up his hand. He grinned wickedly at Ray, holding it up. “Now would you like me to ‘get on with it’?” 

“Yes,” Ray said, and gasped when the hand immediately wrapped around his dick. Biting off a groan, he arched his back as his core tightened with pleasure. He heard a laugh at his reaction, then the Vagabond was back to kissing his neck, sucking marks on his skin while his hand worked furiously.

A particularly loud moan echoed in the space around them, and Ray bit his lip to stop another from coming out. That made the Vagabond’s motions more intense, like he knew what Ray was doing and was trying to make him snap. “You are such a fucking asshole,” Ray informed him, pulling on his hair that was almost free from his ponytail. The Vagabond tilted his head up enough so Ray could see his grin, lopsided and happy. Practically all of his face paint was gone, rubbed off on Ray's skin.

“You love it,” Ryan ‒ he couldn't think of him as the Vagabond anymore, for fuck’s sake, pretty much all his face paint was gone ‒ said cheekily. Before Ray could say anything else, the hand on his dick tightened and twisted, making his hips buck in pleasure. He didn't show mercy, since he knew by now when Ray was close, really getting in his space and relentlessly jerking him off. Ray breathlessly groaned when his orgasm hit him, searing through his body like lightning. When it was over he was limp, gasping for breath and trembling. But hey, he was warm, finally.

Ryan pulled away from his neck, and Ray was briefly afraid he was going to go further, but his focus was on Ray's pants and underwear. Ray moved to help him, drawing one leg up to give him more room to slide the fabric down. Still wet, it clung to his legs uncomfortably. Fucking against a wall was a lot harder than on their nice bed at home.

He hiked his leg up to give Ryan more access, shivering against the cold air. Ryan leaned down to kiss him, eagerness on his lips. “I'll have you warmed up in no time,” he promised. A slick finger traced briefly around his hole before sliding in. Ray grit his teeth. They'd fucked just the other day, but Ray was still too tight for it to be comfortable. But he couldn't expect him to be gentle now.

Ray breathed heavily through his teeth, trying to force himself to loosen up. There was plenty to be distracted by, since Ryan was back at his neck, obviously trying to make a serious mark. The asshole would never let Ray mark him up anywhere visible, but clearly felt that rule didn't apply to himself. Ray didn't care, not really. Their relationship may be a secret, but not everything had to be.

A harder thrust made Ray's hands dig back into his hair, pulling in retaliation. The Vagabond was really putting the pressure on him, pushing him into the wall, which restrained his movements. Ray knew it was deliberate, because that's the kind of guy Ryan was. So was the second finger he thrust in without warning, sending a spike of pain and pleasure up Ray's spine.

It was good though, even with the discomfort. Ryan's lips on his neck were lighting him on fire, and the body pressed up close to his was doing the job well, too. Not to mention the way Ryan was focusing his fingers on the spot inside that made his breath stutter and his dick perk back up. Ray wasn't about to stop any of it, even though he could. 

The third finger was easier, since Ray was eager and ready for it. He moaned happily, getting lost in the sensations and attention. Against his neck, he felt Ryan smile before he pulled away. The shift in posture had Ray scrambling for a better grip around his neck. He tightened his legs around Ryan's waist while the other man unzipped himself from his jeans.

“Tell me you're ready for this.” Ryan's eyes were dark and hungry as he stroked his dick, covering it with lube. Ray knew better at this point to get into a discussion of consent post ass-fingering, so he flexed his fingers at the base of Ryan's head and looked him dead in the eye.

“Just fuck me, Ryan,” he said with as much force as he could muster. It wasn't sexy, or flirty or anything he'd ever heard in porn or a rom-com, but it worked. Ryan growled and got himself in position, sliding in before Ray could even get ready for it. Ray's head thunked back on the concrete wall as he arched and moaned. He loved it, the sudden overwhelming feeling and the lingering pain that was keeping him together. It was perfect.

Ryan wasn't wasting any time with being nice. His thrusts were brutal, slamming Ray to the wall and driving the breath from him. Garbled noises fell from his mouth without him paying attention, too caught up by the feeling of Ryan fucking him. His fingers were biting into Ray's hips, keeping him in position and probably leaving bruises. Ray hoped so.

Ryan closed in, moving his hips up and nailing that perfect spot dead on. There was nowhere to turn to avoid his demanding mouth, which nipped at Ray's lips until he opened for them. Ryan kissed like he fucked, hard and unforgiving. 

He pulled back enough to free a hand and direct it to Ray's dick, which was uncomfortably hard again and feeling a bit left out. He stroked it hard, making Ray wail and scramble to pull him close again. Ryan laughed into his neck, moving quicker, and Ray was too overwhelmed to get mad.

A sharp hit of pain on his neck made him jerk. Ryan sunk his teeth in, not yielding or showing mercy. Ray didn't even try to get away, he was too close to do anything but hang on and take it. He grabbed at Ryan's hair again, moaning in his ear when thrusts sped up abruptly then slowed. A final squeeze around Ray's dick had him following Ryan's lead, coming hard and fast and almost too painful. But it was perfect.

The stairwell seemed oddly quiet afterwards, only their breaths echoing as they tried to get them back. Ray slipped back to stand on the floor, wincing at the surprising aches in his legs and everywhere else. Ryan automatically moved to support him. All the meanness was gone, and he was back to being the surprisingly nice guy Ray was still getting used to. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Ray grinned up at him, feeling giddy and alive in the afterglow. “Fucking never better,” he assured him. The wolfish look slid back on Ryan's face, now that he was assured Ray really had enjoyed the shit out of the rough treatment. That was the sort of thing that made Ray love him.

To keep himself from jumping him again and kissing that look off his face, Ray wobbily turned his attention to his gun. His job was done, so he didn't need it anymore. He took it apart, putting all the pieces in the backpack he'd left in the stairwell. Ryan picked it up and held it open for him.

“So what are you going to do with yourself for the rest of the night?” Ryan asked. His hair was a fucking mess, Ray was pleased to see. He absolutely looked like he'd just had sex, and no face paint could hide that.

Ray shrugged. “Go home, take a shower. I'm still fucking freezing. And someone left face paint all over me.” He glared mock-seriously up at the other man. Ryan grinned innocently and wiped at Ray's neck, cleaning up the paint smeared there. His fingers lingered on the bite, making Ray shiver. Or maybe it was the cold air settling on his damp clothes. A shower really sounded fucking fantastic.

And then he was going to cuddle under the covers until Ryan came back. Hopefully at some point, Ryan would come home cold and in need of warming up. Ray would never say no to a round two. 

Trying to drag his thoughts away from that, Ray touched Ryan's bare cheek, frowning with seriousness now. “You better get this touched up.”

“Actually, I'm going undercover the rest of tonight.”As he spoke, Ryan stripped out of his very identifiable jacket. “Since my main opponent has been neutralized,” he said with a wink. Ray very maturely stuck his tongue out at him and took the jacket to stuff it in the backpack. Ryan freed his phone from the pocket and glanced at it while he rubbed the rest of the paint off his face.

Copying him, Ray dug his phone from the depths of the backpack, intending to text his employer that the job was off. But a waiting notification caught his attention. It was a message from Ramsey, and Ray opened it eagerly. Ramsey and his crew always had fun heists. 

Skimming over the details, Ray glanced over at Ryan, noticing the frown between his eyebrows as he read something on his phone. Intuition prickled at him. Remembering what he'd said earlier, Ray felt confident in asking, “Is that from the Fakes?”

Ryan looked over sharply, then down at the phone in Ray's hand. His lips twisted unhappily. “Nice big truck heist,” he agreed, scrolling through his message. His eyebrow jumped. “Projected take's nothing to sneeze at.” 

Ray read down to that part in his message and whistled. “I'd be crazy not to take that.”

Ryan nodded distractedly, clearly thinking hard. Ray knew he what he was considering. Would it be a good idea for them to be on the same job, on the same side, together? Probably not ‒ almost certainly dangerous ‒ and they'd have to be careful to not project that they were in a relationship. They weren't exactly lovey dovey all the time, but it was still something they'd have to hide. It was a risk, sure, but so was everything else they did.

“Kinda glad we got a heads-up on it,” Ray said with a grin, imagining what his reaction would be if he'd walked into the pre-heist meeting without knowing Ryan would be there. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if he wasn't expecting him in all his Vagabond-y glory. “I'm down for it,” he said with a shrug.

Ryan didn't look totally convinced, but finally nodded. “At least now I can keep an eye out for your stupid ass,” he chuckled. Ray smacked him in the side, and Ryan caught his arm, twisting it to hold his hand. “We'll just need to be very careful, pretend we don't know each other. I don't like how close Ramsey's boys are with you already ‒ the last thing I want is them poking around in our lives.”

“It's called having friends, Ryan, you should try it sometime.” Ray let Ryan lead him down the stairs with his hand wrapped warmly around his. They bickered back and forth the entire climb down to ground floor, comfortably arguing in a way that could go on for hours uninterrupted. They paused at the doorway so Ray could pull his hood over his head, even though it barely mattered. It was cold and clammy and wouldn't keep him dry either way.

“Text me when you get home,” Ryan asked, like a concerned boyfriend. As if they weren't just as dangerous as any threat on the streets. Ray stepped in close and tilted his face up, accepting the sweet kiss Ryan gave him. Once they stepped out onto the streets they'd be strangers again, prepared to lie to the death rather than admit they knew each other. But that's just how things were.

“Don't get shot,” Ray said over his shoulder before he stepped into the rain. He headed the direction that would take him home, not looking back to see Ryan walk away. As soon as the action was over, he'd come back.


End file.
